The madness that is Lady Sybil
by SummerSeven
Summary: Filling in the gaps between 2.07 and 2.08. Alternating POV. A bit of Sybil/Branson angsty fluff. Got to love angst.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - This is a bit behind the times - it deals with events between 2.07 and 2.08. Its taken me a long time to pluck up the courage to publish my first fan fic, so please be gentle!_

"Do you need any money for the room?" Lady Mary demanded of him.

"No thank you, Milady," he sighed, defeated.

Branson closed the door after them and sank onto the bed, resigned. This was it, then. The end. She'd made her choice when it mattered and she hadn't chosen him. She'd gone with them, and he was left sitting on the musty bed of the nameless roadside inn. He'd known from the beginning, of course, that she wasn't coming with him out of love. His feelings for her were in no way reciprocated. To Sybil, Branson was just an escape route. That was all. A ticket, to use her words. A way of rejecting the post-war monotony of her upper-class life. No; bells didn't chime when Lady Sybil Crawley's eyes alighted on her chauffeur. No girlish blushes or silly excuses for clandestine meetings. No; to Sybil he was just a way out; a means to an end. And yet he'd taken that. He'd grab at anything which meant he could be with her. Idiotically, he'd thought that if he could just get her away from them, just marry her and get her on a boat to Ireland**, **that would be his chance to entice love out of convenience. Surely she would grow to love him, if she knew how much he idolised her? Surely given time her feelings would grow?

Damn fool.

He should have known that they would come for her. And any idiot could see that she would go back with them, come to that. If he'd have been thinking straight earlier he would have hidden them somewhere off the road, but logical thought seemed to elude him when it came to her. And so they had found her, and she had gone with them without a backward glance. All her talk of staying true to him meant nothing. He could see that, blind as he was. He could see that as soon as her sisters had had their say, any tentative hold he had over her would be broken and she would be lost to him completely.

So, yes. He would return the car tomorrow. And then he would go. Leave her to her family, and the opulence of her everyday life. Leave her to make her escape some other way. He'd be damned if he'd be her ticket.

0000000000000

They'd managed to sneak back quite easily, Sybil reflected. Anna had lead them in through the servants' entrance, and Mary had left her at her door after more assurances that she wasn't about to run off again.

Left alone, she tried to think through her next steps. She had promised Tom that she would be true to him, and that was one promise she was definitely going to keep. There was no way she was giving up on him now. As soon as her sisters had burst through the door at the inn, however, she'd known that she was going to go back. If she was being honest with herself, she'd known even before then, in the car on the journey from Downton. While Tom had beamed with pleasure and anticipation, full of plans for their future, she'd been thinking about the past. About the family she was giving up. The family she loved almost as much as she loved Tom.

She knew the only way forward was to bring Papa round. She had to convince him that her marrying the chauffeur was the best thing for her. Marrying the chauffeur. Even to her it sounded like something out of one of Mama's novels. But she had to do it. Simply had to. Tom was the only thing that was right for her. She needed to marry him. But she needed her family to be on her side too. While she knew that Tom was her ticket out of Downton, that alone would never have persuaded her to part from them. That wasn't enough. But it was enough that she loved him. That she knew to be simple fact. She loved him with all her heart, and she wouldn't be separated from him.

So yes. When he returned the car tomorrow, she would go to him and they would make plans. They would make her family accept them and then they would begin their new life. Together.

_A/N - Much more to come, taking us up to the end of series 2. Please review - but remember I'm new, so be gentle but honest. Thanks, SummerSeven. x_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - Thank you so so much to the people who reviewed and/or alerted the previous chapter. Its really boosted my confidence. I guess you could label this chapter 'The morning after the night before.' Oh, and I own nothing._

He carefully backed the car into the garage and pulled up the handbreak. Slipping out of his seat, he spotted his chauffeur's hat where he had left it on the table in the corner. Smiling to himself, he realised that he'd never have to wear that god awful hat again. There's always a positive, he reflected. He slunk out down to his cottage, careful that none of the servants saw him. The last thing he wanted was to delay his leaving with idle chatter. He needed to escape. To escape Sybil's world, and to escape the hold she had over his heart.

Entering his cottage, he began to throw his things haphazardly into the boxes that he'd stolen from the stores for the occasion. Funny. He'd imagined doing this with Sybil; her family looking on in horror as they made ready to depart for their new life. The two of them laughing together as they worked, over some wedding anecdote that was theirs and theirs alone to share. He supposed that she was laughing now. Laughing at her own folly. Choosing to elope with the chauffeur, indeed. Laughing with relief that her sisters had caught her in time to restore her sanity. Laughing at Branson, the puppy who had been trailing after her for years; clinging on to her every word and dreaming himself across the great divide.

What an arse he'd made of himself.

0000000000000

She was sitting at her window when she saw the motor pull past into the garage. She felt the familiar tug on her heart that she always experienced when he was near and she rose to follow him. Sliding silently down the corridor, she passed Anna, on her way in to make up one of the guest rooms. Anna's face told Sybil that she knew exactly where she was going, but she made no attempt to stop her.

She didn't find him in the garage. Just his chauffeur's hat, looking forlorn in the corner. A smile lit up her face when she realised that he'd never have to wear that monstrosity again. No longer mistress and servant, soon they would be equal. Making her way down to his cottage, she began to imagine their future together. The politics they would share. The work they would do. The children they would have.

A cacophony of noise overwhelmed her as she neared his cottage. What on earth was he up to? She didn't bother to knock, just slid in through the partially open door. There he was, slinging pots and pans and crockery into an upended crate that looked as though it had taken a few hits with his boot. He was swearing under his breath in Gaelic. At least, she recognised some of the words he had laughingly taught her one one of their drives.

"Tom? Whatever are you doing? What's the hurry?" She laid a hand on his arm to slow him.

He stopped. He scrutinised her hand before glancing all too briefly at her face. "I'm packing, aren't I? Figured I'd just write my notice out for your father and give it to one of the maids to pass on. No point hanging around here longer that I need." He turned from her to continue his task.

"Wait." Sybil interjected, confused. "But... but I thought... I thought we were going to convince my father together, before we left? That's why I came home. We can't go yet." She couldn't understand why he wasn't looking at her.

"We're not going anywhere." Tom muttered. "Just me. You made your choice last night."

Bewildered, she bent down and brought his face up to hers with the tips of her fingers. "What do you mean, I made my choice? I left because I couldn't deceive my family. Because I wanted them to give us a real chance, to give you a chance. You know that, Tom. I told you last night I would stay true to you."

He shook his head from her grasp and turned from her. "The truth is, Milady, I knew you would never leave them. You couldn't do it. Leave all of this, for me."

He'd reverted to Milady. It cut her in a way she couldn't quite understand. "Look at me, Tom. Nothing's changed. I still want to go away with you. I still want to marry you. I just want to give my family time to try to accept us. That's all. Just a little time."

"A little time for your sisters to convince you that dreaming of running away with the Help is just a phase that all Ladies go through. An initiation right that will all be forgotten within the month." He began on a new box, throwing things in now with no thought to where or how they landed.

She stood between him and the box, desperate for him to stop, to really listen to her. "Why do you think so little of me, Tom?" she pleaded. "Why do you doubt what I've promised you?"

He did stop, then. He stopped and he considered her carefully. His shoulders sagged and a resigned expression settled on his face. "Because we're different, Lady Sybil. I don't mean because of our class, though I suppose that might explain it. I mean our motives. I was running away with you because I can't imagine my life without you right next to me. Because everything in me loves you 'till I'm sick. You were running away with me because to you, I was a way of escaping your life. And I don't want to be the way out. I want to be the way forward."

The room around her swam, and she sank down into his threadbare armchair with her eyes on the floor. Is that what he thought? That he was just a way out to her? That she'd truly changed her mind and left him last night? Suddenly, the words she'd used when she'd accepted him came floating back to her. 'I want to escape, and you're my ticket.' Her ticket. Her way out. Had she ever even told him how she felt? Had she even told him that she loved him?

The look of anguish on his face when her head finally lifted almost crushed her. The thought that she'd caused him pain was too much to bear. She crossed the room in one great cry and launched herself into his arms. "Oh Tom," she whispered, "Tom, I love you. I'm not going with you to escape my life. I'm going with you because you are my life. I'm going with you because I couldn't bear to be where you aren't. Because my little world consists of you and I and that's the way I always want it to be. Oh please forgive me Tom. I love you so much. So very much."

Exhausting herself, she clung on to him desperately and sobbed. He looked down at her, his expression inscrutable, and when she looked up she could see the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes too. He took a handful of her hair, shaken loose in her rush to get to him, and used it to pull her lips to his, crushing her in his desperation to show her how he felt. As he pulled away a small 'oh' escaped from her lips. "Please God, Tom. Don't go without me."

The sound of knocking dragged them suddenly out of each other's eyes, but still they clung to each other. "Milady," came Anna's voice, "Milady, you'd better come quick. They're looking for you and Lady Mary's beside herself."

Tom pulled her closer still. "Go back to them, my love. Go back, and I'll finish packing and hand in my notice and take a room at The Grantham Arms. I'll wait for you there. I'll wait until you're ready to tell your parents and until you're ready to leave with me. I'll wait forever for you to come away with me."

She smiled up at him, lost in the warmth that surrounded her. "It won't be long, Tom. I promise. We won't have to wait long to be together". And she meant it, she thought, while she made her way after Anna. There was no way she was giving him up now.

_A/N - Thanks for reading. More to follow. Reviews would be very welcome. SS x_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - Hello! Thanks again for continuing to read my first ever attempt at writing something. I really appreciate your patience. Also, extra special sparkles to the people who have been kind enough to review or add an alert. This chapter is really 1.5 chapters smooshed together, because the first bit didn't make sense on its own. So bear with it.  
>Again, I don't own anything. I checked on EBay and its not for sale.<em>

The last few weeks, he reflected, had been heaven. Covert and secretive and at times frustrating; but still heaven. She had sneaked out every day to be with him. Together, they had revelled in escaping the confines of their life at the Abbey in the countryside around them. In amongst the open greenery of the surrounding farmland they had shared their dreams. They had learnt the ins and outs of each other's minds, their personal politics and their views on everything from children to Lady Mary's current beaux. Looking down at her now, where she rested on his coat beside a hedge, he felt nothing but love for her.

He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. What he was about to say would change it all.

"Sybil, I've had some news."

"Mmm?" She was so deliciously sleepy, he had to fight to keep himself from kissing her.

"I've had a letter," he explained, "It came today. From that paper in Dublin. I got the job. They want me to work for them. To be a reporter."

It took a second for the news to sink in. A brief moment before her eyes opened fully. "Does that mean...?" she asked.

"Yes." He interrupted. "Its time to go, Sybil. Its time to tell your parents about us, and get away from here. We can go straight to Dublin on the ferry and get married there, I think. You can stay at mam's until the banns have been read." He spoke in a rush, eager for her response, eager to know if she would stay true to her word when reality dawned.

"But your mother. She doesn't think much of us, does she? She won't be pleased with my living with her." Sybil sat up and looked him square in the eye.

"She thinks we're foolish, I know. But that'll change when you get there. She'll love you as soon as she meets you." He clasped her hand in his, desperate to hear some sort of acquiescence.

"What about Cousin Matthew's wedding? I can't miss that. They'd never forgive me."

"We can stay a few days until all that is over. But we must tell them tonight, Sybil. We've put it off for far to long. You wanted your family's support, and you need to ask for it."

"But..."

"Don't worry, my love. I'll be there next to you. I'll come in tonight. After dinner. We can tell them together. You and me." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, silently pleading with her to agree. He thought for one moment that that was it. That she had changed her mind. That she would get up and walk away and never accept him into her life again. But then she removed her hand from where he still held it and began to bite her nails. A gesture of resigned acceptance, he knew.

"Yes. I suppose you are right. It needs to be done. It may as well be now rather than later. I'll tell them. After dinner. But you must promise to be there with me," she sighed, placing a hand on his chest.

He joined his hand with hers. Be there for her. Yes, he'd be there for her alright. He'd fight for Sybil Crawley with his last breath. He'd fight for her love and he'd fight for her family's acceptance because he knew that that was what she needed to be happy. And her happiness was all that he cared about.

0000000000

Her happiness was all that he cared about, he reminded himself as he made his way to the servants entrance of the House. O'Brien and Thomas glanced curiously over at him as he passed, before re-immersing themselves in their scheming. They'd have a lot more to talk about after tonight, he reflected. This was it. The beginning or the end of it all. If he was honest, even through the last few weeks of pure joy, he hadn't let himself believe that she would really go with him. He hadn't let himself believe that she really loved him. Time would tell, though. Tonight would tell.

As agreed, Anna let him in as soon as she spied him hovering around the entrance. He could see the inner struggle playing out across her face. Let him in and give her Lady a shot at happiness, or lock him out and forever preserve the seemingly timeless existence of her employers. Poor Anna was a romantic at heart, he smiled, and it was that which had decided it for her.

He shuffled as quietly as he could along the servant's corridor, praying that everyone would be busy at dinner and so wouldn't stop him to demand an explanation of his presence. Not that he would have shied away from telling them; he was actually proud of Sybil's love for him. If indeed she did love him. He still couldn't quite believe it.

There was one horrifying moment when he thought he heard Mr Carson's distinctive tread on the stairs, but Jesus and the Virgin Mother must have been on his side, because whomever it was promptly turned and climbed back up the way they had come.

Relieved, he mounted the stairs that led to the green baize door. As he eased it silently open he reflected on all that that door represented. One piece of wood. Just one door that meant that Sybil and he belonged to different worlds. Her on one side, him on the other. That one door meant that any chance of a future for the two of them would be tainted by her family's horror and for the first time he realised that Sybil stood to lose everything, while he stood to gain the world. He wanted to burn that bloody door and all it represented.

Turning his back on it, he strode toward the door of the drawing room, ready to fight for the woman he loved. He opened the door, blinded momentarily by the richness of their clothes, their surroundings, their situation. He searched the room until his eyes locked on her face.

"I'm here," he declared.

000000000

Sybil had told her sisters their plans just before dinner. Their reactions did nothing to steady her nerves. But they didn't dent her convictions either. If anything, she felt anger at their dismissal of Tom as a lesser being. How could anyone who knew Tom as she did think that he was any way beneath them? Her Tom, who she had grown to love, but who she had also learned to respect and admire over the last few years. The man she wanted to marry and spend her life with. The only man she could envision a future with.

She had absolute faith in her decision. Nevertheless, throughout dinner she was on tenterhooks for the moment that it would all come out. She felt utterly torn between her family and her love, and not for the last time she wished that she had been born a lowly fishwife, free to make her own choices.

When they retired to the drawing room, she realised that the moment was nearly upon her. Her eyes kept drifting towards the door which any moment now would open at his arrival. Ever practical, all the possible outcomes of tonight's revelation flashed through her mind, and for each one she tried to plan a plan that would get them all out unscathed. But the end of each outcome remained the same. Whatever happened tonight, she would go with Tom.

The door opened suddenly and there he stood, looking defiant and more than a little proud. His eyes sought hers and only in them did she detect a hint of vulnerability.

_A/N - Thanks for reading. More to come. Have a nice day! SS._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N - Thanks again for reading. This is the penultimate chapter. Please review.  
>I own nothing.<em>

She'd gone to him. He still couldn't quite believe it. She'd gone to him, and fought for him, and most importantly, she'd left with him. Well, not quite; he still had to actually get her away to Ireland. But she could hardly be expected to miss Mr Matthew's wedding.

He smiled to himself as he lay on his bed, back in the dingy room at the Grantham Arms. Last night had been... well, it had been further proof of her love. And he had needed it, whatever he tried to make himself think.

But she had had it out with her father, and she'd stuck to her convictions. What a little politician she would make! And after she'd left the room, leaving open mouths in her wake, she'd kissed him with a passion and a determination which both fired and humbled him. He'd left her at the door of the Abbey with nothing but hope for the future. He'd left her at the door. The front door. The irony of his entrance and exit to her home didn't escape him.

And so he began to pack and make plans. For in a few days, they would be taking their leave of Downton. Off to create their own brave new world, where no one cared a fig for class.

0000000

Those few days had been and gone and still Sybil had neglected to pack. For sickness had come to Downton, and it had held all that she thought she could leave behind in its grasp. She couldn't help equating this all with some sort of punishment from God. Or perhaps a test.

She sighed and yawned simultaneously as she lifted the glass of water to her mother's dry lips. Today had taken her beyond the limits of her experience. To have Mama so ill. To actually think that she might have... And then Lavinia. Oh, God. Poor, poor Matthew. And poor Mary.

"Sybil?" A choked, reluctant voice struggled its way from Mama's lips. "Sybil, darling, don't cry."

She raised her bared hand to her face. She hadn't realised she had been.

"Oh, Mama. I'm so... Thank God you're through it." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She was so thoroughly drained.

"Sybil. I need to... I need to say something." her Mama continued. "I think... what you're doing... it's very..."

"Shhh, Mama. Don't think about that now. I won't leave you. I can't leave you now." The realisation had dawned on her in the small hours, as she'd left death behind in Lavinia's room to continue to nurse her mother.

"No", Mama struggled on. "No. Listen. I need to say... Go. Go and be happy. If all this has shown me anything. Its been... its been an awakening, Sybil. Go where your heart takes you. Don't worry about us. Downton will continue without you."

Fighting back tears, Sybil reached to pull her mother up into her embrace. Wave after wave of exhaustion and grief rolled over her, and suddenly all she wanted was Tom.

She released her mother with a kiss, and, without another glance, ran from the house which had been her childhood, to find the man who had the ability to heal her heart.

_A/N - Thanks again. Have a happy day. SS x_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N - So this is it. The final chapter. If you've made it this far, go have a mojito on me. Extra rum._

She had run to him in her darkest moment. To him. That thought sustained him and kept him rooted as he stood in front of the house. A hundred windows glared down at him; judging him for who he was and who he was not. And here he was; Irish, communist, chauffeur, about to use the front entrance and defy all that his life had been to this point. Oh, the lengths that she drove him to. The madness that was Lady Sybil Crawley.

He stepped forward.

Walking through the front door, he ran straight into Carson. The poor man didn't quite know where to place himself, but the disapproval emanating from his face was unavoidable. He hesitated for a second, and Tom took pity on him.

"I'll see myself to the library, shall I, Mr Carson? To wait for Lady Sybil?" He didn't wait for a reply, as he made his way to the rear of the hall, this route to the library as unfamiliar to him as the entrance had been.

"I shall inform His Lordship of your arrival, Mr Branson." He heard Mr Carson's voice follow him.

Entering the Library, he hesitated. Would it be too forward to sit down? Should he have waited in the hall? Would she be long? The noise of the door creaking open startled him, and, on edge, he span round, expecting Sybil.

It was Lord Grantham.

"Branson." the Earl acknowledged him. Although he'd given his blessing yesterday, after the funeral, Tom knew that Lord Grantham would still give anything to stop his youngest daughter from leaving with him. In that instant, Tom felt he knew a little of what the older gentleman was feeling. How would he have felt, had he been the one forced to give her up?

"Lord Grantham," he hesitated, "My Lord. I... I just wanted to say."

"I think enough has been said, my boy." Lord Grantham interrupted. "You have her. She's very much yours. But let me say this now, while I have you alone. If any harm ever comes to her. If she ever wants for anything, you'll answer to me. Do you understand?"

"I quite understand, my Lord. I do. And I know it'll be a struggle for her. Life will be different. But she's stronger than you think, My Lord. She's... well, she's your daughter."

Lord Grantham smiled at that. A strange sort of half-smile, which acknowledged the compliment that Tom had just paid while retaining his distance.

Moments passed. The clock ticked on while they waited for Sybil. Neither man said any more. They couldn't think of anything that needed saying. Or anything that would be appropriate.

Eventually, she appeared, and Tom drew a breath. In her travelling clothes, her hat pinned carefully to her head and a nervous yet determined smile pinned to her face, she had never looked more beautiful. Ignoring the Earl's presence, Tom covered the room in six short strides and gathered her up into his arms. "Are you ready, my love?" he asked.

"I'm ready." She replied, slipping her gloved hand into his.

Lord Grantham coughed and left the room.

Turning to follow him, Tom walked beside Sybil to the entrance of the Abbey, secure in the feel of her small hand in his. She gave it a reassuring squeeze and he turned to smile at her.

Lord Grantham had been unsure as to how to handle this send off. But eventually his wife had persuaded him that if their youngest daughter was leaving to start a new life, they would bloody well bring out the household. And there they were. The family lined up on one side, resplendent in their finery. The servants on the other, exuding the quiet respectability which their places afforded. A few weeks ago, Tom would have been part of one line, Sybil the other. But now, now their lives were one, whatever that brought with it.

As Sybil turned to say her farewells to her family, Tom released her to speak to the staff. Carson, it seemed, would not lower himself to look at him. He received a tentative and worried smile from Mrs Hughes and an amused smirk from Thomas. But it was Anna he sought. He longed to see one friendly face, one well wisher in amongst all this hostility, and she didn't let him down. She held out her hands and he came to her. "All the best, Mr Branson. You look after her. And you be happy. Both of you," she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

He smiled his gratitude at her. "Aye, I will, Anna. I will."

He sensed Sybil behind him and turned to smile at her. In that instant he forgot about the others, family and staff alike, and the world shrank to just him and her.

"Are you ready, Milady?" he asked.

"Ready, My Lord." she replied with a grin.

Hand in hand, they made their way toward the waiting car. This time, he helped her up into the seat next to his own, and, side by side, they made their way as equals to a new adventure.

_A/N - Thank you so much for reading. I've thoroughly enjoyed the writing experience. So much so that there's already another story in the pipeline. Post C.S. involving a little more in the way of imagination. Please look out for it, and, as ever, have an awesome day. SS x_


End file.
